


Memento: Marshal's Badge

by Sparrows



Category: Bastion
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 20:30:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1721600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparrows/pseuds/Sparrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A prestigious symbol of the City's law enforcement. The City's citizens respected and admired the Marshals for their unwavering dedication in preserving peace and justice."</p><p>When the Kid retrieves a beaten-up old badge from Cinderbrick Fort, it brings back memories he'd rather leave buried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memento: Marshal's Badge

When the Kid comes back from Cinderbrick Fort, he goes through the usual routine - puts the Core into the Monument, picks a building for the Bastion to make, and then goes to clean himself up. Once he's washed the Fort off of himself he sits in front of the Monument, leaning against the metal as he stares into the clear blue sky. The metal at his back hums with power, vibrating gently against his armor. It's almost comforting, knowing that the Bastion is right there, working along as normal.

The Marshal badge he picked up in the Fort feels heavy in his hand. He flips it over and over a few times, staring pensively at the battered little thing. Metal bullhorns curving around a miniature city crest and a small blue star. He'd scooped it out of a pile of ash that might have been a person, might have been something else. He tries not to think about it too much, now.

The Kid remembers the last time he held one of these things - it was his first time on the Rippling Walls, and he wasn't yet trusted to go it alone. He and the man he'd been partnered with were pinned down by a rainstorm - it rained often on that stretch of the Walls, and when it did, the stones got slippery.

Most of the deaths on the Walls were caused by an unsteady footing. So they'd found shelter, and the Kid remembers hugging his knees against his chest and staring out into the storm like he'd seen a ghost, somewhere out there between the raindrops. The guy with him had laughed a little, shuffled over.

"Here," he'd said, uncurling the Kid's hand from his knee and pressing a badge into it. "Look at this." He'd talked their way through most of the storm - keeping the Kid distracted, he realises now - about nothing in particular. Ought to have been boring; it was anything but, and the Kid had listened to every word. He still remembers the quiet explanation of what the Marshal's badge was supposed to mean: the bullhorns around the Star of Caelondia, symbolising the Pantheon's protection of 'our fair city'.

"You could have one like that, one day," he'd said with a smile. "You're smart. You could do it." And the Kid had believed him.

What was his name? Pierce. Something like that. The Kid rolls the badge over and over in his palm, as if he'll see a familiar name peering back at him if he does it for long enough. Pierce the Marshal, with dark hair and dark skin and dark eyes, with a crooked grin and big hands, who'd been on the Walls for a year before the Kid started and knew all the jokes and the songs. Who'd been his first friend, back when he really was just a kid. 

Pierce would be dead by now, no doubt about it. Killed in the Calamity, or else frozen by it. The Kid stares at the badge and tries not to feel sick at the thought of his friend as just another ashen statue, breaking apart into dust at a touch. There is nobody left who will remember Pierce or any of the other men and women on the Rippling Walls. Nobody except for the Kid.

It's enough to make him abruptly stand up and stride over to the edge of the Bastion. Clutching the badge in his hand til the edges dig into his palm, he swings his arm back. Always did have a good arm for throwing, his mother used to say.

A hand wraps around his wrist and, when the Kid looks back, it's Zia. The Ura girl frowns at him and lets go of his wrist, very deliberately, as if mutely daring him to throw away the badge.

He doesn't. Instead the Kid turns around to face Zia and looks down at the badge in his hands. It's charred around the edges. There's a smear of ash on it, too; he wipes it away with his thumb and doesn't look at Zia's face.

"Dinner's ready," she says quietly. She glances down at the badge a moment. "Want to talk about it?"

"No." He follows her to dinner, slipping the badge into his pocket. He'll just have to make sure he doesn't forget.


End file.
